


The De-Pantsing of Alec Hardison

by lynne_monstr



Category: Leverage
Genre: But over the comms instead of the phone, Dirty Talk, Humor, Multi, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardison was used to fielding constant demands on the job. <i>Crack the code. Trace the cash. Do the impossible.</i> It was what he did. <i>Take your pants off</i>, well, that one was a bit unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The De-Pantsing of Alec Hardison

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this one entirely on other-romantic-verbs and her tags on [this tumblr post](http://other-romantic-verbs.tumblr.com/post/121694728251). Also for being a great enabler and helping me get back into the writing groove.

It was Parker that started it. On a job, of all places.

“Hardison, pants off.”

Hardison, who’d been expecting anything from ‘ _Hack into this un-hackable system,’_ to ‘ _Bail my sorry ass out of trouble for the fifth time,’_ nearly spit a mouthful of orange soda all over Lucille’s brand new upholstery. He turned it into a hacking cough, eyes watering at the burn of soda where tangy carbonation had no right to be. “Excuse me? _Hardison, pan_ —do y’all even realize what I do in here requires skill and concentration.”

“Whatever man, we know you can type one-handed. You were just bragging about it last week.” Eliot’s voice joined in over the comms and Hardison had to scramble to check that their hitter wasn’t still—nope, not charming the mark’s mistress anymore.

Eliot was alone in the main hall of the library, pretending to shelve books while keeping an eye of out for security. He paused, stack of books in hand, to glare at the nearest surveillance camera, right up at Hardison. “Now shut up and take your damn pants off.”

Mutiny, that’s what this was. Two against one just wasn’t playing fair.

“I’m bored. I hate waiting,” Parker added, and what kind of world were they living in where a man didn’t get a say about his own pants? He didn’t have eyes on Parker, but her cell phone put her in the library’s unused East Wing. Or more likely, scaling the scaffolding outside the East Wing.

“And what does that have to do with me being naked in poor Lucille?” As much as he loved his precious baby, he was the first to admit that overheating computers and the smell of hard work weren’t exactly mood-setters.

“You don’t have to be _naked_ , man” Eliot again, and damn if he couldn’t hear that eye roll. “Just, you know.” Over the video feed he could see Eliot flap his hand around. “Half naked.”

Half naked. Right. Like that was any better.

“This job is taking forever. Come on, Hardison, it’ll be fun.”

One of these days he’d actually convince Parker that her idea of fun was downright terrifying to the rest of the mere mortals on the planet. Not that this particular idea didn’t have merit; their current job was about boring as watching paint dry, and the thought of his two teammates whispering in his ear while he—

Yeah, the idea had merit was all he was saying. But still, “This is Lucille-time, baby girl. How am I supposed to—”

“ _Alec._ ” Her voice fluttered, soft and breathy in the way it only got right before she was about to come, lips slightly parted and body molded against his own, with Eliot draped over her back and urging them both on.

Hardison shook away the memories her voice conjured. Or at least, he tried to, for all the good it did. Because apparently he stood corrected. He in fact could get hard in the van surrounded by nothing but computers and the lingering tang of stale orange soda. Around him, the glow of his monitors silently judged him.

“You remember that thing Eliot does with his tongue?” Parker pressed on.

Remember? As long as he lived Hardison didn’t think he’d ever _forget._ “Yeah that—“ He shifted in his seat. “That was good.” And wasn’t that the damn understatement of the year.

A self-satisfied chuckle came over the comms.

“It was even better when we didn’t let him use his hands,” Parker added.

Little Hardison apparently agreed, because before he knew it he had a hand down his pants and into his boxers.

It was at that exact moment when all the alarms in the entire building went off. The shrill howl pierced through the earbud straight into his brain and Hardison nearly fell out of his damn seat trying to mute the line. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. With a silent apology to his keyboard, he wiped his hand on his jeans and got to typing. The sounds of Parker and Eliot running and fighting their respective ways out were a reassuring presence in his ear as he worked to cover their tracks.

He did eventually take his pants off, but much to Parker’s disappointment, it wasn’t until they were all safely ensconced back in their bedroom at home.

The next couple jobs went on as normal, with no more crazy requests outside of their usual brand of crazy. He’d even gotten to do most of the grifting on the last one and completely rocked it out, if he did say so himself. Even Eliot had only halfheartedly grumbled an insult at the end of it.

(He had however, been completely silent for the rest of the evening, but for much different reasons. Like his mouth being put to much better uses courtesy of Hardison and Parker and a whole lot of determination.)

For this job Hardison was back in the van again, doing his thing. Maybe it was because his mind was already heading in that direction that he wasn’t shocked when Parker announced over the comms, "My boobs feel weird when I'm upside down. Much bouncier. I like it.”

Mentally, he cursed the short sighted fool who elected not to put cameras in the ventilation shafts, where Parker was currently staking out their newest mark. Hardison was effectively blind and it sucked. "Wait, what? Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

A sharp breath sounded in his ears, followed by, "I like it when you pinch my nipples." Which he took as a, _Yes Hardison, I am hanging upside down in a steep ventilation shaft touching myself and by the way, fulfilling every wet dream you ever had as a teenager._

The image of Parker stripping off in various elevators wasn't helping, either. Specifically, the part where she didn't usually wear a bra.

"Shit.” It took Hardison a moment to realize the whispered curse hadn't come from himself but from Eliot, who had conned his way onto the office building’s security team. From the looks of it, he’d almost finished placing the last of the bugs.

Good. If Hardison had to suffer, he damn well didn't want to do it alone. “You know,” he said, “Riley’s calendar app says that his meeting is supposed to go on for another twenty minutes.” Parker was in the ventilation shaft directly above the sleazeball’s office. She’d be stuck there until he left.

Eliot, bless his violent heart, heard the implied hint loud and clear. “You know, darling, you could pass the time in a much better way. Those fingers could do a little walking, if you know what I mean.”

A huff came over the comms and Hardison could picture the cute little pout that went along with it. "I tried. It's too narrow in here. I can't reach."

Hardison was a good person despite the whole bike of crime thing. But he wasn't a saint either. Hell no. He started talking before the sensible part of his brain could tell him to shut up. "That's too bad. Because I'd tell you to use your fingers. Slip them in nice and deep. In and out and in again, but no touching your clit, not until you're good and ready. Would you do that for me, baby?"

She bit his name out between heavy breaths. “Hardison! That’s not fair, I told you I can’t reach.”

Hardison palmed himself through his jeans. "I know, it would be hard. You'd be so ready, all you'd need was that extra push." On the monitors, he could see her heart rate jump. “How long could you stay on the edge like that, clenched tight around your fingers, waiting for my voice to tell you to fall?”

Parker’s voice turned desperate. “Eliot! Do something.”

“Oh darling, I would if I could. I’d crawl right up there with you and give you more than just fingers. Shame that ventilation duct ain’t big enough for two. Guess Hardison and I will have to make do on our own.” He hummed in a way that made Hardison want to pull him in for a kiss. The kind that was dirty and wrong and so damn right. Lord, those two were going to be the death of him.

A flicker of movement from the camera caught Hardison’s attention and jolted him back to the job at hand. Talk about crap timing. “Parker, Riley’s on the move. The office is clear.”

With a frustrated groan, Parker wriggled free of the ventilation shaft, appearing on the screen as she flipped down into the room, a silent figure in black. “New plan,” she bit out between clenched teeth. “You had better be naked when I get back to van, Hardison.” She cut off the low chuckle before it could start. “You too, Eliot.”

Hardison immediately started loosening his plaid bowtie, eyes never leaving the screen as his fingers worked at the knot before dropping to his waistband.

“Yes ma’am.”


End file.
